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battle with the river.
    He took a steadying breath and looked down again at Genevieve in his arms. What could have driven her to such a state? No sane person attempted suicide. Perhaps she regretted leaving him and marrying a conniving scoundrel. With a scoff, he cast off the romantic notion. No doubt, she never gave a thought to the one whose heart she’d left in ruins a year ago.
    A pattering of rain on the leaves blanketed the world in stillness. Gray clouds closed in, weighting his spirits. Rain fell in a steady downpour. Christian’s teeth chattered and his hands were so stiff and numb that he could barely grip the reins. When Christian arrived at Tarrington Castle, he could scarcely move his body. After dismounting, he stumbled up the stairs to the front door.
    The footman who opened the door remained calm and unruffled as if the earl’s brother frequently came home dripping wet and carrying an equally dripping wet, unconscious woman. Normally Christian would find humor in the servant’s trained composure, but at the moment, he was too weary to care.
    Mrs. Hodges, the head housekeeper, entered with swishing skirts. She frowned in disapproval at Christian as if he were a disobedient lad of six. “Master Christian, what is the meaning of this?”
    He reminded himself that he was no longer the child she once scolded with the ferocity of a lioness, drew himself up, and called upon his most authoritative voice. “A guest room and the doctor, Mrs. Hodges.”
    Mrs. Hodges’s gaze settled on Genevieve’s pale, still face. Christian had the singular experience of actually witnessing the venerable woman lose her powers of speech. He couldn’t enjoy the moment as much as he should have.
    “Chris!” His brother Cole strode in, impeccable as usual as befitting the Sixth Earl Tarrington.
    Christian didn’t bother to offer an explanation. He looked at the housekeeper. “I gave you an order; now move, woman!”
    Mrs. Hodges stared at him as if he’d bitten her.
    Cole took command with the authority of a general. “Mrs. Hodges, send for Ann and have a fire started in a guest room. Vickery, fetch Stephens and Porter.” Cole reached for the woman in Christian’s arms. “Here, Chris, let me.”
    Unexplainably annoyed at his brother’s interference, Christian glared at Cole and stepped back, holding protectively close the girl he’d once loved. But he didn’t love her. Not anymore. He felt nothing at all for her except mild annoyance that she’d reappeared into his life, stirring up all kinds of memories he thought he’d killed.
    Cole’s eyes narrowed in concern. “You’re shivering and your lips are purple. Go warm yourself. She’ll receive the care she needs.”
    Without waiting for Christian’s permission, Cole pulled Genevieve into his arms and carried her upstairs. Christian had the oddest urge to race after Cole, punch his brother’s face, and take back Genevieve. But the last time he’d fought for her, he’d been attacked and left for dead. Besides, she wasn’t worth it.
    Stephens, Cole’s friend and valet, appeared, his Romany features settled into a worried frown. “Come. Let’s get you warmed. Has someone sent for Porter?”
    Christian pushed impatiently at his dripping hair. At the moment, he couldn’t even remember who Porter was. Stephens tugged on Christian’s arm and led him up the stairs. Groggy, Christian stumbled after him to his bedroom. Porter arrived, making sounds of dismay. Oh, yes, Porter. His new valet. Too tired to speak or move, Christian stood in the middle of his bed chambers while Stephens and Porter stripped him of his wet clothing and wrapped him in a blanket. They seated him before a roaring fire and pressed a hot cup of tea in his hand. Christian burned his mouth on the tea but as he swallowed it, the icy lump in his stomach melted.
    How fared Genevieve? He hoped she recovered quickly so he could tell her he didn’t love her anymore and that he was coping just fine